Chapter 50: Echoes of the Past
The Shrouded One tossed and turned in his bed, the tangled sheets a reflection of the turmoil swirling in his mind. Sweat clung to his brow as he drifted in and out of restless sleep, haunted by flashes — vivid, painful flashes.
A boy, no older than he was when his earliest memories began to form, laughing under the sun. His parents were there — his mother's gentle touch, her soft lullabies, his father's strong embrace, the booming laugh that used to echo through their modest home. Their love had wrapped around him like a shield, warming him, protecting him. He remembered the feeling of safety, the knowledge that no harm could reach him as long as they were near.
Then, without warning, the shadow came — dark, menacing, and swift. It swept over the scene like a storm devouring the light. He saw his parents step in front of him, arms stretched wide, shielding him. He had screamed, called their names, begged them not to go. But the monster tore through them. He remembered the sound — the scream of the wind, the tearing of hope, the finality of loss.
The boy's face blurred in the vision, but he knew. He knew. That was him. The memories didn't lie.
He bolted upright in bed, breath heaving, drenched in cold sweat. His heart pounded in his chest, beating like a war drum. The shadows in the corners of his room loomed larger, as if echoing the torment within him.
He pressed his palms into his eyes, but the images clung to him. The cries, the touch, the pain — it was too much. Why? Why couldn't the Master just tell him the truth? Why feed him half-truths and comfortless lies?
I am that boy, he thought bitterly. But why would he deny it? Why hide it from me?
A deep sadness settled over him, tightening like a noose. The Master had told him he was an orphan — abandoned and nameless, rescued from nothing. But the dreams told another story. A story of love, loss, and betrayal.
A knock sounded lightly before the door opened, and in walked Percy and Little 5. Both paused, sensing something amiss.
"Little 9," Percy began, his voice low and cautious, "you okay? You've been… off lately."
Little 5 leaned against the wall, arms folded, eyes narrowed. "You're slipping, bro. What's going on?"
The Shrouded One didn't look at them. He turned his face to the side, masking his expression with a veil of indifference.
"It's nothing," he said coolly. "You're imagining things."
They exchanged a glance. Percy opened his mouth to say more but thought better of it. Something in Little 9's tone warned him not to press. And so, they left it alone, at least for now.
But even as they turned to leave, the Shrouded One felt the weight of their concern. It added to the growing storm inside him — the questions, the doubts, the relentless truth clawing its way to the surface.
Across the fortress, in the candlelit chamber adorned with arcane symbols and dark relics, the Master paced. His face was tight with frustration, his every movement sharp and rigid. He could feel it — the shift. The Shrouded One was remembering. And that was dangerous.
He stopped before a tall, ornate mirror framed in onyx and touched the surface. The glass rippled like water, and slowly, a shadowy figure emerged. Its shape flickered, undefined but powerful. Two glowing eyes pierced the darkness within.
The Master bowed slightly, his voice tense. "It's happening. Little 9… he's remembering."
The shadow studied him, unblinking. "And?"
"If he remembers everything, he may rebel," the Master hissed. "We can't risk him turning against us — not now."
The shadow was still for a long moment. Then, its voice slithered through the chamber like smoke. "You are his father. Handle him."
The words stung, though the Master masked it well. "It's not that simple. He's connecting dots that were never meant to be connected. If he learns the full truth—"
"Then what?" the shadow interrupted coldly. "You destroy him?"
The Master's jaw clenched.
"You let your emotions cloud your mind," the shadow warned. "Keep him close. Keep him loyal. And if he learns the truth… make him believe it was always part of the plan."
The Master swallowed hard. "And if he defies me?"
"Then you do what you were always prepared to do," the shadow said, its form beginning to fade. "Do not let him find out the truth. And do not forget your place."
The mirror darkened, the reflection vanishing into silence.
The Master stood alone, breathing slowly through clenched teeth. He had always been in control. Always one step ahead. But now… now the Shrouded One was slipping through his fingers. The illusion was breaking.
And if the boy ever remembered everything — truly remembered — then nothing would be the same again.